Wolf
by Lady Cheshire
Summary: There was only one good reason for not going to her the moment he felt her soul depart, and had it not been for that same reason he may have never understood her. Death, be mindful of those you leave behind.


_Series spoilers. Character death. Language (the bad kind). Narration shifts._

_AU, for the win._

* * *

Ichigo's chin rested on folded arms as he stared out of his bedroom window. The moon was hanging swollen in the sky, and nearby a petite figure was balancing on a telephone poll, head cocked in the direction of the full moon. The night had swallowed Karakura, but so far nothing suspicious had popped up in their vicinity. Occasionally, he'd spot the most subtle of movements when Rukia would check her pager, but other than these rather ritualistic motions, she was still.

For a moment, Ichigo wondered if he was indeed looking at the same midget who routinely handed him his ass during petty arguments, until he remembered that sometimes she fell into moods where her snaps were half-hearted and muffled by a strange malaise. There was no pattern to it, and despite his adamant denials, Ichigo had often been falling victim to similar shifts in mood. They both handled each other with strange care, as one would keep his or her distance while testing the waters with insults. Rarely did it get so severe that they needed to result to an actual confrontation, but when it did happen it always reminded Ichigo why he and Rukia made such excellent partners.

He rubbed his cheek before turning away and lying down in bed.

In a moment she'd come back inside and wallop him for staring at her, or maybe she'd draw some innocuous looking bunny with suspicious orange hair before she boffed him cleanly over the head. Until then, he'd play the image of her poised before the moon over and over in his mind, the thought of joining her far from his mind.

He closed his eyes as the sound of gentle footsteps floated past his window.

"Make sure you close the window, dumbass."

"I've already closed it, fool."

A suitable response, all was still well. Ichigo smiled as the closet door shut close.

That night he dreamed of following wolf tracks in a snow-blurred forest.

* * *

He's never liked the term 'soul-mate,' but he'd be damned if that wasn't the exact terminology he used when he thought of his relationship with Rukia Kuchiki.

It goes like this: They stand on opposing ends of a nondescript building in the downtown area, she's keeping vigil over an elementary school and he's got his eye on the city library. Its dawn and Ichigo hasn't done a scrap of homework for class today because he and Rukia have been up all night cutting down hollows and keeping a detailed headcount. The influx is unquestionably due to Aizen, playing around from his god-damned throne. They both know it's just a matter of time before the big boys come out to play.

It's a cold, dry November morning and they're both in chipper moods. Rukia nettles Ichigo about being a big clumsy oaf with a club and Ichigo tests her speed when he goes to smack upside her upside the head. He misses every time and has to settle with kicking her legs out from under her and laughing when she falls down.

"Oy, Rukia." He gently breaks the silence, as he shifts slightly around to look at her.

"What is it, Ichigo?" Her hair tussles slightly in the wind as she too turns to meet his gaze.

He pauses.

"What happens to Death Gods when they die?"

Rukia frowns slightly, but she's obviously considering the best way to answer.

"That's a pretty stupid question."

A buffer, she needs a little more time to formulate the appropriate response.

Ichigo rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, well you seemed like the appropriate dumbass to ask."

Take your time, midget.

"It's just like what happens when you die here. A body falls apart, decays, and becomes something else."

"Way to pay attention in Biology."

"Shut up, moron, I'm providing an eloquent answer to a stupid question."

Ichigo rolls his eyes again.

"In Soul Society, a spirit body decays and the detritus returns here," she motions to city splayed out before her.

"To become something else," Rukia stretches her arms behind her head before she gives Ichigo a wicked smile.

"Honestly, a child could figure this out."

Ichigo crosses his arms and opens his mouth widely to voice a biting comeback but Rukia's pager goes off.

"Where-"

"Two blocks East. Looks like a big one."

"Get on, it'll be faster-"

"Quit your babbling, let's move out."

"Bitch."

Conversing is a measure of accuracy; making sure they are in-step with the other. Even if what they're saying is cacophony, verbal communication is a metronome of their dance.

* * *

Ichigo winced at the false brightness of the Hueco Mundo sky with his chest heaving. Each breath he drew felt like fire in his lungs, and the sand etched into his throat only made it that much more obnoxious. Occasionally, Kenpachi and Nnoitra would sail into his vision bringing with them their bestial cries and biting steel, but they'd only be there for moments before one of the hurdled off into a building, knocked it over, and blasted into the other.

Jesus, these guys weren't joking around. Ulquiorra shot a god-damned hand through his heart, Grimmjow all but liquefied him, and had Kenpachi not come raining down from the sky like some god-damned demon, Nnoitra would have pulverized him.

Ichigo swallowed the sand in his mouth as Orihime's soft hands grazed his skin. Nearby, Kenpachi was squealing with joy as he played with Nnoitra's blood. Ichigo turned to Orihime and smiled softly at her wide and worried orbs.

"Please heal Nel, she needs your help more."

Orihime looked a little surprised before she nodded vigorously and did not question the reassuring smile he gave her.

"Of course! I'll fix her right up and come back to you."

She got up and dashed away, but not without throwing a quick glance in his direction.

Ichigo's smile fell away.

Alone, all alone.

_Rukia, falling to her knees after taking a fatal blow for Ichigo. Rukia, nailed to that god damned cross and ready to die. Rukia, ready to tear Ichigo apart after he dared protest her going to find Inoue alone. Rukia, bobbing around him waving that god damned juice box in his face like it was the cure to cancer._

Ichigo wrenched his eyes shut to the glaring Hueco Mundo sky as his mind formed an image of Rukia as she lay in a puddle of blood. Meanwhile, Sode no Shirayuki performed a last snowfall; a final dance for her mistress.

He tried to remind himself that this is the way she would have wanted to die: after a hard-won battle for her friend's life, but the reasoning is like a nail in a shallow piece of wood.

He should have gone to her, damn it. The second he felt her life leave this hollow and empty place, he should have gone to her so the idiot wouldn't have to be alone. Never mind that he'd been up against Ulquiorra, it didn't matter, he should have just walked away.

It wasn't what Rukia would have wanted him to do, but he'd be damned if it wasn't what she needed.

The thought of need spurred another, and Ichigo found himself immobile when the image of Orihime being led to Hueco Mundo floated into his mind. He, Rukia, and the others made the same decision: Rescuing Orihime was priority. No, the reason he just couldn't do it because he and Rukia had an understanding that penetrated flesh and bone: Orihime _needed _him.

Ichigo looked over and saw Orihime's hands warmly and gently hovering above Nel.

Orihime was beautiful, kind, and alluring. She had a vulnerability that was charming to Ichigo, she was a fair maiden that needed rescuing and Ichigo needed someone to rescue. They fit together perfectly, seamlessly, and without qualm. She welcomed Ichigo's strength with weak resistance and Ichigo would lunge at the chance to protect her. With her, Ichigo could be sweet, sensitive, and gentle, just like a lover.

It would be easy to be with Orihime, but the possibility of ease Ichigo's nerves and body (the midget could pack a punch when pissed) didn't make it correct.

Ichigo remembered Keigo, bordering on downright lewd when the latter insinuated the possibility of Ichigo's relationship with Rukia being of a more intimate nature. He had rewarded Keigo with a split lip and the idea that maybe, just maybe, his relationship with Rukia was more than that.

Of course Ichigo loved Rukia, of course he'd do anything for her, but it wasn't simply because he was fond of her. It was because if anything were to ever happen to Rukia, Ichigo would lose something so central to his being that his life, his very name 'protector' would be negated.

It hadn't been cute or picturesque, but they had melded their souls that night (Ichigo rubbed his chest and gnashed his teeth), and the fusion of her soul into his soul had made everything that much clearer. They argued, physically abused each other to no end, but damn it they understood each other. When Ichigo would flare his protective nature, she would naturally respond by slamming his face into a wall. Sometimes, he'd back off and other times he'd push right back. When Rukia would flaunt her independent nature when she was obviously weakened in a fight, Ichigo would usually toss her over his shoulder nonchalantly and continue to clobber the hollow.

She refused to fit into Ichigo's archetype and he hated her for it almost as much as he loved her for it, because she was his soul-mate, damn it. There shouldn't have been so much interference, so much conflict. They should have gelled together naturally, just like soul-mates in those god-awful romance movies.

But then. . .

Ichigo forced the tears back and gnashed his teeth, and pretended the pain was coming from one of his many wounds.

But then, neither he nor Rukia really fit into such trite archetypes in the first place.

Why would being kindred spirits suddenly change that?

* * *

Byakuya carries the fallen warrior in his arms.

Ichigo can't hear the conversation between Captain Unohana and Byakuya, but Ichigo can read the placid expression on the Kuchiki prince's face and instantly knows they were discussing what to do with Rukia. Leaving her body here was out of the question, but even Byakuya wasn't immune to the crippling effect of carrying his little sister's body around until they found a way out.

He sees Unohana take Rukia from Byakuya's arms, and Ichigo spots a pull in Byakuya's arms, a sliver of resistance slips over his face as he lets her go.

She's to be taken back to Soul Society so her body can deteriorate and return to the Earth she knew so little about, but Ichigo's blind and can't see a damned thing past the rage and helplessness. He wants to grab Byakuya and choke him, wants to scream that's there's no God, no ridiculous reincarnation, no Valkyrie to claim her soul, no step further beyond the veil she's passed through.

He sees it, damn it. The world works in a straight line: life and death, not pretty loops Rukia spoke of with Soul Society and spirit particles. He wants to scream it but he can't because Byakuya's already turned away and Unohana's laid her atop of sand and covered her with a sheet, so Ichigo careens in the other direction and flash steps away until he's got enough distance from Rukia's shell to release the primal sobs bubbling in his throat.

Ichigo isn't sure what hurts more; the fact that he let her die or the fact that it was the right choice.

Now, he is alive, but the how and why of such an existence are eternally hidden from him without her.

In the distance, she hears him howl and Orihime cries beautiful princess tears.

* * *

Its years later.

The Winter War shudders to a blood-drenched finale. Aizen is dead- or so they believe.

He divorces the life of a Death God and tries to live as normally as possible. He marries the princess, and at night he watches the way her hair pools around her and thinks it looks perfect with Orihime's features and gently upturned lips. Rukia's short hair would get stringy in battles, and sometimes she'd need to soak it in water to remove the caked blood. He gets lost in these thoughts, and Orihime never understands why he weeps when he runs his fingers through her hair.

Renji frequents Ichigo for a while and they catch up, pointedly ignoring any shared memories of Rukia. It becomes glaringly obvious that they don't have much to talk about anymore, so his visits trickle to every couple of years before he eventually stops coming altogether.

She rests beside her sister in Kuchiki Family Shrine.

Ichigo never visits, doesn't see the point.

He feels old, so much older than he really was, but he has a beautiful family, two beautiful girls and a son that gets into everything, and Ichigo is adept at ignoring the hole in his soul, the piece of his heart that was swallowed in the sand those many years ago.

His life is clean and dry, until Byakuya appears in Ichigo's kitchen one night.

He scares the shit out of the now thirty-seven year old doctor, mostly because the bastard doesn't look any different from the last day Ichigo last saw him.

"What the hell do you want?" Ichigo growls, bracing his hands the corners of the kitchen counter.

He's heard Byakuya's different now, and Ichigo can see it. Sure, it was still impossible to read those snobbish features, but Ichigo can feel the emptiness resonating in the Captain's controlled breath. Nobility or not, that girl was his life. Instead of feeling empathy, Ichigo is infuriated at Byakuya's constant refusal to express emotion or affection of any kind. Maybe if he'd made the adoration for his little sister more apparent, she wouldn't have been the kind person who thought she was alone and uncared for.

Ichigo swallows a swig of cold coffee and Byakuya's stare bores into him.

"Well?"

Without removing his stone-cold eyes from Ichigo, Byakuya reaches over and pulls a blade from the sheath on his waist. Ichigo eyes him dully as he does so, the coffee cup still level at his mouth. He's been sliced up enough to know that the weapon is not the Captain's infamous Sebonzakura.

A heavy pool of dread fills Ichigo's stomach as Byakuya removes the scabbard and displays Sode no Shirayuki in the filtered moonlight.

"It was her wish that this fall to you."

Ichigo's expression is contained, but behind the mask he's burning.

"Bullshit."

Byakuya's eyes flash and his pale hands become slightly paler on the hilt of his sister's sword.

"She's dead, the sword's gone. That's not Ru-"

"Typical ignorance, hardly mitigated by age."

Ichigo slams the coffee cup down on the counter, being careful to pull enough force back to avoid shattering the mug.

"One should not be too surprised that a lowly ryoka such as you has forgotten," Byakuya continues, unimpeded. Ichigo leans back and folded his arms, glaring calmly at his former adversary and ally.

"Forgotten what?" Ichigo hisses quietly.

Byakuya's features twitch with the slightest hint of a sneer as he pulls the blade up and points it straight at Ichigo's heart.

"Should the wielder of a soul-cutter become deceased, the blade will disintegrate. However, should the bearer's soul become fragmented. . ."

Byakuya's listless eyes are unblinking.

"The blade will continue to exist until the fragments fade."

Ichigo swallows.

"I imagine it must be difficult for your primitive brain to comprehend."

Ichigo looks at the sword in its plain state before he shakes his head and turns away.

"That part of my life is over."

Ichigo's reflexes, slowed so much by years of dormant muscles and gentle caresses, are dimmed to the point that he doesn't feel the tiny vibrations under his feet when Byakuya flash-steps through the distance between them. Ichigo nearly laughs from embarrassment when he feels the cold press of a blade against his throat.

"A fragment of my sister's soul resides in you yet," Byakuya's voice does not betray any alteration of temperament.

"'That part' of your life will only be over when my sword rips apart your every ligament, tendon, and vessel."

He thinks about rebutting that Rukia was too solitary of a creature to ever think about giving him such an important part of her, but then he remembers-

"Take it."

Ichigo's hand slips over the hilt, and Byakuya disappears.

* * *

That night, he falls asleep on the living room couch with Sode no Shirayuki in his embrace.

Ponderosa Pine and Tamarack Pine encircled him. Snowflakes shaped like feathers fell from the sky as he crouched low and held out his hand. He wasn't sure how he knew she was there, but after a few patient minutes of waiting, the white wolf emerged from the darkened grove of trees.

She paused for a moment and blue orbs stared back at Ichigo.

Ichigo swallowed nervously.

She pointed her snout into the cold air before she took a shy step toward Ichigo.

He smiled and as she came close, he wrapped his arms around her neck and buried his face into her fur.

"I. . ." he whispered, the tears slipping from his eyes. Ichigo's calloused hands grabbed bunches of her fur and the wolf gently lapped the back of his neck.

Ichigo would have gone on to apologize and blather about how he knew she was there but how betrayed he felt when she followed her own destiny, when she padded along that path he couldn't follow; the path that would nearly shatter their connection, but when the thoughts pored into his brain the wolf merely nuzzled his neck and nipped his shoulder and Ichigo knows, always knew, that he didn't have to say anything at all.


End file.
